Green My Eyes
by Quinquereme
Summary: The war is over, and there is another last Uchiha. "Yes, we have the same eyes. Your eyes are green, like mine." SasuSaku.


**Green My Eyes**

Three years ago, his father stood here, right here, with his spinning eyes and his twisted mouth, on the path prepared for him by his predecessors. They still tell stories about it, because it was not long ago, and because they think he doesn't know and can't understand yet; _what a gift is the innocence of a child_, they say. But he is his father's son, and it is only a matter of time before he will grow up into a familiar face no one wants to be reminded of.

Today they look at him with a subtle fear in their eyes, wondering if it was a mistake to let the child live. _If only we'd known_, some thought, _then maybe this could have been avoided_. But today his mother holds his small body aloft in her strong arms, and his uncle accompanies the both of them down to the shrine, _because today is a special day_ she says, smiling a new smile.

He likes his uncle. He likes to think of him as his best friend, a large silly pet. He is loud and funny, with yellow hair and bright markings on his face, and he lets the boy ride on his back and spins him until he wobbles around on the ground. His mother yells at his uncle sometimes, threatening him loudly without any real intent to hurt him, but other times she just sits back, watching them horse around with a sad smile on her face.

The three of them arrive at the shrine, and Kaka-jii-san is there, still strong and tall with a shock of silver hair. He wonders why the man always covers his mouth and his eye, and decides that one day, he will find out for himself. But for now, the one-eyed man smiles and reaches out to ruffle his hair, and there is an almost imperceptible break in his voice.

"He's getting big, Sakura."

His mother returns the smile and rubs the boy's back lightly. The loud uncle nods, and so the four of them make their way back to the village's main road. The shrine is a meeting place; their destination lay outside the village. He watches the large gates as they cast their shadow over him, twists in his mother's grasp to get a better look at the faces carved into a distant mountain. The sixth face is his uncle's, he notices. They even got the cheek-whiskers right.

Suddenly, they are outside the village. He has a vague recollection of being brought here before. Their footsteps make crunching noises now, on dead leaves. He looks up and sees the tall trees and their hugeness frightens him. They keep walking, and the only sounds he can hear are the crunching leaves, the insects and his mother's breathing.

After a little while, a clear area with a patch of grass appears. They all stop, and his mother kneels to let him down from her arms. He looks at her uncertainly, not wanting to let go.

"C'mere little guy, I'll help ya out." His uncle crunches over, orange robes rustling after him, to take the boy's hand. He likes the feeling of the big rough hand around his small one. Together, they walk over to a big stone at the base of a large tree.

"The third year." Says Kaka-jii-san, and no one replies. They all just stand there except for the child and his uncle, who is making sure he doesn't trip over the small stones surrounding the grave.

"Careful, Naruto."

"Relax Sakura-chan! I've got hi—"

He trips, and the ground seems to fly up at him. The stones scrape his skin and it hurts, so he cries. His uncle picks him up, carries him and pats his back in an effort to calm the child down.

"Shhh, it's okay little dude! Uncle Naruto's here. Come on, stop crying."

A moment later, his mother is there, holding his knee, healing the cut.

"I _told _you to be careful, you idiot." Her green eyes flash angrily at his uncle, and he remembers that time she took him to a lake, when he saw their reflections in the water. Holding his face close to the glassy surface while her arms held him steady, he saw, for the first time, that their eyes were the same.

"Mmmm," he said, pointing at their faces in the water.

"Yes, we have the same eyes. Your eyes are green, like mine." She'd smiled her dazzling smile at him then.

In the forest, his cries die down to a whimper, and his uncle rocks him back and forth until calmness settles over him. His mother lets out a sigh and finally, all the adults turn to the big stone under the large tree. The face of his uncle grows hard, and his mouth turns into a straight, serious line. After a while, it softens, and the blond man shakes his head, again and again. His brows furrow, and his mouth twists into the same shape the boy's mouth twists into when he is about to cry.

As she stares at the grave marker, he sees his mother close her eyes and the sides of her mouth turn down. She is clasping her hands together, and then suddenly, she is kneeling, covering her mouth and shaking slightly. Water comes out of her closed eyes and trickles down her face.

Watching from within the orange-robed arms, he feels his uncle's chest heave and rumble. He sees the way their bodies shudder as the tears roll down their faces, how his mother holds herself like she's about to break into a million pieces. Again, he is frightened.

Kaka-jii-san moves to stand between the two of them—his crying uncle, his kneeling mother, and puts an arm around them both.

After a very long time, the man takes a candle out of his pocket and lights it over the big stone. The boy moves in his uncle's arms, and is let down. Clumsily, he walks over to where Kaka-jii-san is, and reaches out towards the stone, letting his chubby fingers trace the carvings, running thrm over the red-and-white fan. The smell of fire catches his attention, and he looks at the candle and its dancing flame.

The man with one eye ruffles his hair again. "He smiles like Sasuke, too."

The child looks up at him, sensing the familiar sound of the name. He knows Kaka-jii-san means his father. He knows this name, because it is the word his mother whispers at night while she dreams, and he is still awake. He's heard it many times in the village, where old people mutter restlessly and where the children recount things about the war: who got who, what great beasts were summoned out of the ground, and most importantly, about the traitor-man with the spinning red eyes.

When she's done crying, Sakura wipes her tears away and stands up, suddenly feeling the tiredness in her muscles. Scooping up her son, she kisses his forehead and holds him tight, feeling his tiny beating heart against her own._ Sasuke's son._ She loves him with the same intensity she loved his father, which is why he was not, is not, and will never, ever be a mistake.

She remembers the night before everything ended. How clearly the moonlight illuminated his figure. He stood between the trees as if presenting himself to her, a magnificent, hunted creature with bandages across his chest, clothes hanging loosely around him. It was when their eyes met—inky black against bright green—that she saw, for a split-second, how every inch of his body was fighting itself.

Instinctively, she whispered "Sasuke-kun," and the forest grew still as he took a step towards her.

She remembers how the earth seemed to groan beneath them—a slow, agonizing sound—and then it stopped, when she was inches away from his touch.

"Sakura," he breathed, feeling the oddness of the name on his tongue before the memories flooded back again, even on this last night on earth that they had given him. Her constant, irrational, misplaced love. And his.

She remembers the coldness of his touch and the color of his bare skin as they lay down on the grass together, her fingers digging into his back and his lips against her throat. Beneath the dark skies they found each other for the last time in both of their lives.

The next morning, they took his unmoving body from the crater of dry earth, covered with scars and crusted blood, saying, _the Uchiha traitor is dead._

And though Naruto was the hero of Konohagure and Madara was dead—killed by the consequences of his own ambition—the future Seventh looked at his village and saw nothing but the lifeless bodies of his friends and family. Kakashi remained. Gai and his team remained, as with Kurenai. But Tsunade did not, and Naruto liked to think that she was enjoying a limitless supply of alcohol in heaven together with Jiraiya, when he missed them both. Shizune was inconsolable in Kakashi's arms. The pig was dead, too.

Shikamaru remained. Sai did not. Ino did not. Chouji did.

Sasuke was the one he could not save. The only one who had made Uzumaki Naruto admit defeat; his closest rival and greatest friend. In the end, the bastard had chosen his own deadly path, and not even Naruto, with all his hope and power, could stop him.

But Sakura remained.

Sakura, and the child.

When the elders found out, they flew into a rage at how Konoha's greatest enemy would have an heir, how the treacherous Uchihas would live on, to throw the thing away before it became a child. But Naruto was Hokage, the youngest Hokage, saying "So many people died already. Why add one more?"

He remembers how her face contorted when her water broke. They were having lunch at Ichiraku with Hinata and Lee and the others, when someone started yelling at them to bring Haruno Sakura to the hospital now, you worthless idiots, and how Lee had carried her princess-style all the way. He remembered Kakashi reading _Icha Icha Paradise_ in the waiting room of the hospital while the medical-nin swarmed over his teammate inside the emergency ward, whispering "Breathe, breathe!" and the final, triumphant moments at the end of the four hour wait, when Shizune emerged and said Sakura was sleeping.

Naruto remembers the surge of joy he felt when he held Sasuke's son for the first time—the sensation of wriggling life in his tiny limbs beneath the white blanket, his small head, his closed eyes. And when Sakura said, "Meet uncle Naruto," the pink-haired woman and the Hokage looked at each other for a long moment and shared a smile that was theirs only.

He is asleep now, comfortably cradled in his mother's warm embrace. She is speaking softly, careful not to wake him. The yearly visit to Sasuke's memorial is over, Kakashi has left to attend to other administrative matters, and so has Naruto. Hinata is here, and she looks at Sakura with a smile on her lips, and strokes the boy's hair. They laugh quietly at how troublesome it is for the Hyuuga heiress to be the Shichidaime's wife, at how Naruto still unnerves foreign emissaries with his way of speaking, and at how some people think they are the most mismatched couple in Konoha.

She isn't the first to observe that the child looks so much like Sasuke when he sleeps.

"Well, he's his father's son." replies Sakura. She lets the words hang in the air and offers no other reassurance.

"He's going to be a very handsome young man when he grows up," offers Hinata.

Sakura smiles, because she knows that this is part of how it was always meant to be. Maybe in another place, Sasuke is with her and his clan is alive and their son will grow up with a father. Or perhaps she is dead and Sasuke is dead, and there is no son. But in this here and now, he is cradled in her arms and he is dreaming. She listens to his heartbeat for a few moments, and thinks of the day when her son will open his eyes and see everything through spinning red instead of green.

* * *

_End._


End file.
